Perditions Tale, Chapter 17: "Final Destination"
 

(OOC: alright, the final battle is taking place in Alba. I can never remember how to spell the other country's name and he's already in Alba. So... be prepared)




Cesia saw herself on what looked like the roof of a castle, it was far to hazy for her to be sure of where she was, but one think she was sure of was the beautiful full moon in the sky...

...and the person standing in front of her.

Cid looked down, "What a worthless sacrifice." He sneered, his words echoing in her brain. He then turned and started walking towards Cesia, "Truely worthless... after all..." Without warning, he lunged forward, wrenching one of the daggers from her hand, "I can take care of you without my sword."

Cesia saw herself glance around frantically, looking for someone... something to help her.

Cid chuckled, a sound that filled Cesia with fear and dread, "Well, Princess, I believe it's time to cut away the loose end..." He then lunged forward, the dagger finding it's target...


Cesia woke with a start, emitting a silent yelp. "...Just a dream." She breathed. But then her blood turned to ice, <Or was it just a dream?...> She climbed out of bed and glanced out the window at the full moon and the starry night, <Premonition or not... we can't turn back now...> The next night is when everything they had been planning was being put to action. The Avionan army, along with the survivors from Alba were a formidable threat to Cid's army, assuring the group safe passage in from the skies.


All that day, the group got ready for battle. The party was now healed, and preparing for their departure. They were taking the Wyverns by nightfall, and while the Avionan army distracted the enemy they would be dropped off one one of the castle's far walls, and from there the group would make their way across the roof to the throne room, where Cid should be.


Finally, it was time. Mounting their Wyverns, the group headed off for the Alban castle. The group was quiet for the most part, mentally preparing themselves for the battle to come. The castle of Alba grew on the horizon, every mile making Cesia feel more and more nervious.

The group finally arrived, the Wyvrens letting them off on a far end of the roof, then taking off to return to Aviona. Cesia squinted into the dark, "That should be about where the throne room is." She said, pointing in the direction of the center of the castle. There was a large balcony leading into the room Cesia believed to be the throne room. Along the catwalk were several guards who were busy shooting arrows into the fray below, "We can't let them give out a warning that would alert Cid of our presence..."


(OOC: WHEW. THAT was a long post... And so starts the begining of the end... I'm not sure we'll be able to finish it tonight, ('cause I still have school and a time I should be in bed by) but still... it starts...)

Ark's hand was almost reverantly on his sword. He'd been armoured again while in Avonia, and now sported the finest mail, and a brestplate with guards for his arms clipped on, followed by gauntlets. The main cropped off halfway down his thigh, but he still had very sturdy boots on.

He also had a cape...which he'd been very upset about getting. VERY upset, but the Avonians had insisted. On the back of it was the flag of the old nation that Cesia would've ruled, if Cid hadn't taken it and changed it's flag.

The most notable thing was his sword's sheath though. Its and the dagger's. They were insanely intricately designed, with a silver vine design. He thought back to before he left...

Ark sighed contently. He'd finished being healed, had bathed, and had trimmed his hair and gotten rid of his developping beard. Best he'd felt in a while. There was something that was bugging him though.

His sword. The man who'd given it to him had said something about the woods helping him...and during the fight on the battlements it had been breaking armour effortlessly, while glowing.

He walked into a study, it sheathed and in his hand along with the dagger. The old wizened Avion in there suddenly just stared at him, and scurried forward.

"What are you holding young man??"

"I was hoping to ask you..."

"Let me see, let me see." Ark handed the weapons to him, and in return the avion scuttled away, and started looking down the blade.

He looked at Ark. "Come see."

Ark looked at the sword, and saw green runes. "Can you see runes ranger??"

"Yes..."

"That means blood has been spilt for the protection of the heir to peace..."

"What? What are you talking about?"

The avion handed the sword reverantly back to Ark. "Long ago, seven swords were forged, each to fufill individual prophecies. They were to only act to their source of choice, your sword reacts to earth itself, when they had to protect an heir to the throne of peace, or someone of that line. Three have been found, and they've been in horrible condition. I believe you hold the Glade Blade. The sword of the very grass and earth itself. It allows nothing to stand in it's way, provided the wielder has the skill to use it, as long as the wielder fights to protect one of the ones it's meant to protect."

Ark looked up from the blade. "Cesia." He sheathed it, and said, "Thank you."

The Avion smirked and said, "We must all play our parts."

Ark walked away, heading for the armoury...

Ark rubbed his chin. "Tama's domain right now. I could try to take them with one of my daggers, but it probably won't work..."

OOC: If anyone wants to know what Ark looks like, take Aragorn from that last fight in Return of the King, remove the silver tree from the breastplate, and trim the mail skirt up to the afore mentioned length.

Gin handed his Naginata to an Avonian dragoon. "Make good use of this in the battle. It's a good weapon."

"Won't you need it Gin." The warrior said.

"Nah I'm better with my swords." He said. As usual he wore a pair of black cotton pants Over that he now wore an armored skirt. His swords tucked into a Thalo green sash. He looked at the wyvern without emotions. He didn't need to fake having them anymore. there was no point. He took on the white mask to hide his thoughts from the world. It cost him any emotion he could ever feel. He thought he should feel sorrow or fear, but as usual he felt nothing.

Silently he ran toward the closest gaurd and like lightning sliced his head off. He was on the next guard within seconds.

Ark swore, and followed. After the second guard died, Ark grabbed the bodies and yanked them into cover.

He looked around and hissed, "Where is his head?" It was not visible to them, which meant it might have fallen off. If it had fallen off, that meant another guard could see it. If another guard saw it, that meant warning flags would go flying up.

After double checking to make sure both bodies were hidden Ark started looking around frantically. "You had to behead him, didn't you? You couldn't have just cut his throat, you had to take the ENTIRE thing off."

"Now blood is everywhere... Smart move." Lynx commented, following the group. He was planning on letting everyone do whatever the hell they wanted, as long as they don't give away that they are there. He was preparing a large spell though, just incase.

"Hey, I'm not mister craving blood. I would've phased their heads through the wall, and their hands. But no, Gin has to show off how good he is, and thus he goes and kills them. And now we have no clue where this guy's bloody head is!"

As Vace looked at the Keep so close, that held the objective of all their journeying, the traitor Cid. He remembered all that had led up to this moment, the innocent start in the forest, the bandit's attack, Cid's betreyal, the monster in the forest, the flight to Alba, and the battle that followed, the retreat to Aviona, and now the final battle, back in Alba.

He shook off his memories, they always returned at the oddest time. A wise warrior had once told him, "Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice; it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." It looked like it was time to achieve their destiny. He walked after the others, not bothering to complain about the dead guards but instead saying, "It does not matter how many guards must die. All we have to do is finish off Cid, and his forces will crumble. Let's go."

"Vace man, we all want to kill Cid. We'll probably argue over who takes him. But thing is, we can't go bloody and frothing at the mouths now. We can't fight an entire army."

He walked past the dead men and looked around the corner. A stairwell...to a guard tower. He pressed his ear to it, and then peeked his head through. It was empty luckily enough.

"Well, I think we just solved the guard problem for a bit."

"Most of Cid's troops are either in the field battling the Allied forces, or on the walls providing supporting fire. I wouldn't be surprised if the soldiers he keeps in his Keep were only reduced to a skeleton force." Vace said.

"Well, neither would I. Still, let's keep moving." Ark walked around the corner, looking for any signs of guards. One. He was looking the other way, but was turning. Into the wall went Ark.

The man yawned and turned back. Ark walked out of the wall in front of him and slammed his dagger into his upper chest. He twisted, and the man dropped dead.

Ark wiped his dagger off on the man, and pushed him through the wall to hide him.